The Rival Don's Treasured Second Chance

My husband, the King of New York's underworld, declined my call for the ninety-ninth time just as my brother's heart monitor flatlined. He claimed he was in a life-or-death sit-down with the Commission. But moments after my brother took his last breath, I saw his mistress's Instagram post. The "meeting" was an emergency C-section for her Persian cat. My brother was dead because a mistress's pet needed the surgeon Dante had promised to send for him. The betrayal didn't stop there. When our car was T-boned days later, Dante didn't pull me from the wreckage. He carried his mistress to safety, screaming for paramedics to save his "fiancée," leaving me trapped in the burning vehicle with crushed legs. Miraculously, I survived. Lying in the hospital bed, I waited for an apology. Instead, I got a threat. "Without me, you are nothing," Dante sneered, throwing a box of chocolates at me like I was a dog. But the final blow came from the County Clerk. When I tried to file for divorce, they told me no record existed. Seven years of loyalty. Seven years of standing by his side. And I wasn't even his wife. I was just a possession he had tricked into playing house. I didn't cry. I didn't scream. I picked up my phone and scrolled past Dante's name to the one man he feared most: his rival, Alessandro De Luca. I typed three words. I need extraction. It was time to burn his kingdom to the ground.

Chapters

Chapter 4

The air inside the car was suffocating.

Dante drove with a white-knuckled grip on the steering wheel. Seraphina sat in the passenger seat, fussing with her makeup in the visor mirror, her "broken" ankle miraculously forgotten as she crossed her legs comfortably.

I sat in the back, pressing a wad of tissue to the spot on my shoulder where her nails had broken the skin.

"We are going to lunch," Dante announced, his eyes meeting mine in the rearview mirror. "You will behave."

"I have boxes to move," I said, my voice hollow.

"The movers will do it," he replied dismissively.

"They will throw it away," I countered. "It's Luca's life. It's not trash."

"It's junk," Seraphina chimed in, snapping her compact shut. "Dante told me. Old comic books and plastic toys. You're hoarding garbage, Elara."

I saw a box on the floorboard of the front seat. My box. I had left it on the curb when I went inside the tenement earlier. Dante must have picked it up.

"Give that to me," I said, reaching forward.

Seraphina grabbed the box first.

She rummaged through it and pulled out a small, red model airplane.

It was cheap plastic, glued together with clumsy, childish precision. Luca had built it when he was twelve. It was the first thing he ever made with his own hands before the tremors started. It was his pride.

"Look at this," Seraphina laughed, twirling it in her manicured fingers. "Did a toddler make this?"

"Put it down," I said. My voice shook.

"It's dusty," she said. She pressed the button to roll down the window.

"No!" I screamed.

I lunged forward, scrambling over the leather center console.

Dante slammed on the brakes.

The car screeched to a halt in the middle of the empty street.

"Sit down!" Dante yelled.

Seraphina dropped the plane. Not out the window, but onto the plush floor mat.

She lifted her stiletto heel.

I watched in slow motion as the sharp metal point came down on the red plastic.

CRUNCH.

The wings snapped. The fuselage shattered.

It wasn't just plastic breaking. It was the last piece of Luca I had left.

Something inside me snapped.

I lost my mind. I clawed at her. I grabbed her hair. I wanted to hurt her. I wanted her to bleed like my heart was bleeding.

"Get off her!" Dante roared.

He reached back. He didn't pull me away.

He kicked.

He twisted in his seat and his heavy boot connected with my stomach.

The air left my lungs in a violent whoosh. Pain exploded in my abdomen. I was thrown back against the rear seat, gasping, curling into a ball.

"You are insane!" Dante shouted. He checked Seraphina's face, cupping her cheeks. "Are you okay, cara?"

"She scratched me," Seraphina wailed, holding up a flawless cheek.

I lay on the backseat, clutching my stomach, unable to draw a breath.

"It was Luca's," I wheezed. "You broke it."

Dante looked at the shattered plastic on the floor. He shrugged.

"It is a toy, Elara," he said coldly. "I will buy you a better one. Stop acting like a child."

He put the car in gear.

He drove fast, angry. He was barking at someone on the phone now, handling business, ignoring the wife he had just kicked in the stomach.

Seraphina reached over and fed him a grape from a bag she had in her purse. He took it, nipping at her finger playfully.

I stared at the ceiling of the car.

I felt the vibrations of the road.

Then, I felt the impact.

A truck ran the red light.

It slammed into the passenger side. The side where Seraphina was sitting. But the force spun the heavy Maybach like a top.

Metal screamed. Glass exploded. The world turned upside down.

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